


never would've played

by softestlesbian



Series: raise our glasses up to make a toast [1]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Handyman AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestlesbian/pseuds/softestlesbian
Summary: Nick is less-than-delighted when his bookshelf collapses on him. Luckily, Liam hurries over to help him out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1dhockeyau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1dhockeyau/gifts).



> DEAR LIAM i hope u enjoy this truly ridiculous fic. it's very very very silly but hopefully also sweet. i love you!
> 
> (this series is going to be my FICS FOR FRIENDS. they'll all be very silly and the ships vary but hopefully they're fun.)

"Fuck!" Nick shouts, tossing the hammer onto the table. It hits hard, and he drops to the ground after a second. He doesn't want to deal with whatever damage he's done.

He looks up at the offending bookshelf -- well, it's meant to be a bookshelf. From the ground it looks wonky, like he's done everything wrong. He wouldn't be surprised if that's true.

He lies there for a moment, closing his eyes. This is it. He's never going to get it done, his flat will remain a mess for the rest of his life. He'll never be able to invite friends over -- not that he does that very much now. He won't be able to bring _anyone_ back, though. (Not that he does much of that now; his job at the radio gets him in bed by ten, most nights, and it's hard to pick anyone up before it's even properly dark out.)

He hears a tentative knock at his door.

He frowns, running a hand over his face. "Shit," he murmurs, getting up and brushing his jeans off -- seriously, there's fucking sawdust everywhere, and he doesn't get it, he's not even sawing anything, this is terrible.

He opens his door.

Liam -- friendly, sweet Liam who lives just above him -- is standing there. "Are you alright?" he asks.

"Yeah," Nick says, shifting. "I just -- had a bit of an accident. I was trying to put up a bookshelf," he says, biting his lip.

"Did you get it?" Liam asks, fussing with his hair. "It just -- I was taking a nap and it sounded quite loud."

"I'm sorry," Nick tells him, frowning. "I mean, no -- but I can put it up another day, it's fine. You can get back to sleep."

"Do you want help?" Liam asks quietly.

Nick blinks at him. "Help?"

"Assistance," Liam says, deadpan. "I can help."

"I don't want to put you out," Nick tells him, going pink. "I mean, I can -- I'm sure I can figure it out."

Liam gives him a look. "Are you sure?" he asks.

"Well -- mostly sure," he allows.

"Let me help," Liam tells him, rolling his eyes. "I don't want you to hurt yourself, yeah?"

"I won't!" Nick says, crossing his arms. "But if you _insist_ , I suppose you can help."

Liam presses his lips together like he's trying to hide a smile. "You're kind," he tells him, stepping forward, looking sort of hesitant. "Are you sure…?"

Nick steps to the side, holding the door open for him. "As long as you're sure you don't mind."

"Shut up," Liam tells him, patting his arm on the way in. "Of course I don't mind. Rather spend half an hour here now than have you do it yourself and die."

Privately, he thinks that half an hour is quite overzealous, but then again he's never been good at predicting time like that. "It's just in the -- in the back there," Nick tells him, fussing with his hair again, shutting the door. "Sorry about the mess."

"What did you do?" Liam asks, walking around the mess. "Is there a body under here?"

"No!" Nick insists, stepping over to the couch and sitting down. "There was, until you knocked, but it's -- I just had a few piles of things and they sort of -- came crashing down."

"I can see that," Liam says, hands on his hips. "D'you have a -- well, anything? Tools?"

"Of course I do," Nick says, getting up and groaning when his knee cracks. "Here." He limps his way to his toolbox, where he'd thrown it just before the crashing incident.

Liam takes it, sitting down with his legs crossed. "This is a mess," he tells him, glancing up at him. "Why d'you have it organized like this?"

"Don't use it much, do I?" Nick asks. He sits down next to him, legs stretched out in front of him.

Liam laughs, nudging his elbow against his side. "I can fix it for you," he tells him. "If you have a stepladder, I can probably, like -- hook it to the wall. Definitely won't fall on you," he teases.

"I'm sure I do," Nick says, getting up. He heads into his bedroom and finds the stepladder, folded up in his closet. "Here!" he says happily, carrying it back out to the living room. "You're sure you can do it without dying?"

Liam rolls his eyes at him, laughing. "Of course I am," he tells him, setting it up.

*

In the end, it takes him about ten minutes to get everything set up again, even more nicely than Nick would have made it (though much of that is due to his own laziness, to be sure).

"Thank you," he tells him, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He smiles, ducking his head. "You could -- if you wanted, you could stay for lunch. As a proper thank you," he assures him.

Liam grins. "I suppose I could do that," he tells him, brushing his hands off. "As long as you're sure it wouldn't be putting you out…"

Nick laughs. "Not at all," he tells him. "Though I'm a fucking terrible chef, was just going to order in."

"There it is," Liam says, biting his lip. "Just let me go, like -- shower and get dressed, yeah? Order whatever you like."

"You sure?" Nick asks, fairly sure this is flirting. "I might have terrible taste."

"Nah. You're terrible at housework, you've got to make up for it with your taste in food," Liam assures him, pushing himself up. "I'll -- I'll be down in twenty or so minutes, yeah?"

"I'll be waiting," Nick tells him, walking him to his door. "Go ahead. Make yourself pretty."

Liam shakes his head at him, laughing. "If you insist," he tells him, waving just before Nick shuts the door.

Nick's a bit pink, but he doesn't let it distract him; he orders their food (a nice Thai, in his experience it's nearly always a safe bet) and gets changed into something slightly nicer.

His flat looks much nicer now that Liam's fixed it up, he notices. Maybe he can have people over -- or, at least, it seems he can have Liam over.


End file.
